Harbor Nights by Marcia Evanick Page B

about the turbulent relationship between her parents. Everyone that is, but her. Over the years, her mother had become very skilled at hiding the fact that her father, when drunk, became abusive both verbally and physically.
    For years, she had had the impression that her mother was a bit on the clumsy side, which explained the occasional black eye, black and blue marks, and even a broken wrist once.
    She had been blind to the abuse that had been going on right under her nose for years. Her mother might have been a good actress, but it didn’t excuse the fact that she hadn’t noticed. Now, the guilt she was feeling was enough to consume an elephant.
    Logic told her that she hadn’t been responsible for her father’s actions or the pain her mother had suffered at his hand. But logic didn’t rule the heart, and her heart broke anew every time she thought of what her mother had endured. Tonight she would smile and be neighborly for her mother’s sake. No matter how uncomfortable she became.
    â€œWhat can I get you, Norah?” Paul stood next to her holding an empty plate.
    Matthew quickly picked up another plate and looked at her mother. “Joanna, what would you like to start with—a hamburger or a hot dog?”
    Jill and Kay both gave the men a funny look before turning back to help the kids with their plates.
    â€œA hamburger would be great, but I can wait on myself, Paul.” She took the plate and smiled. “Thanks, but why don’t you go help your wife? She looks like she’s got her hands full.”
    Paul took one look at his wife and rushed to her side to help.
    Jill was trying to balance two paper plates, while Hunter was not helping the situation by trying to scoop potato salad onto one of the plates. The plate was bending at a dangerous angle when Paul rescued the sliding food and saved Hunter’s dinner. “Hey, watch out there, son. You’re putting too much on the plate.”
    â€œI’m hungry, Dad.” Hunter straightened his hot dog.
    â€œWell, that’s good, but you’ve got to take it easy on the plates.” Paul ruffled his son’s dark hair. “You can always come back for seconds.”
    Norah smiled as Hunter scooted up onto a bench next to his grandfather. The boy looked so tiny next to the large, burly man. Yet Hunter beamed with delight as his grandpop carefully squeezed ketchup onto his hot dog for him. “Thanks, Grandpop.”
    â€œYou’re more than welcome, Hunter.”
    John Porter gave his grandson such a tender, loving smile that Norah could feel the love from where she was sitting. John Porter was a gentle giant, and she and her mother had nothing to fear from him.
    She turned to the dish of baked beans at the exact same instant as Matthew. Their arms bumped, and she reacted instinctively. She jumped back, putting a safe distance between them. Matthew handed her the serving spoon, saying, “Here you go.” Matthew didn’t seem to notice her sudden jolt.
    â€œThanks.” She took the spoon as her gaze met Ned’s across the width of the table. Matthew might not have seen her jump, but Ned had. She could see the questions in his eyes. Questions she didn’t want asked because there was no way she would be answering them.
    She quickly averted her gaze and looked at Peggy Porter. “This looks delicious, Peggy; did you make it?” She scooped up a big spoonful of beans.
    â€œSure did.” Peggy looked so proud of herself. “It’s an old family recipe. But I must say that I’ve never seen them turn out so fine looking. They sure can make one’s mouth water.”
    Jill and Kay stared at the casserole dish in wonderment. Norah had to wonder how much influence her mother had had in doctoring up the beans. It was quite obvious by everyone’s reaction that the beans she had just piled on her plate weren’t Peggy’s normal dish.
    â€œGee, Peg, when are